


Get physical, way below my lips

by MintInkLoopyOh (orphan_account)



Category: Hotel Artemis (2018)
Genre: Cocaine, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Frotting, Hotel Sex, M/M, Posted Before Canon Obliterates This, Sort of Hatesex, What's It Called When You Do A Line Off Someones Sixpack? Well Whatever It Is It Happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MintInkLoopyOh
Summary: "Acapulco Does A Line Off Waikiki’s Abs" was the premise of this, could be read as a follow-up to last fic.





	Get physical, way below my lips

**Author's Note:**

> i have never stressed as much in my life to finish this before the movie comes out as i did this. i cant wait for people to see this movie and have it just ruin my canon. anyways here's a waipulco

 

Acapulco shows up at his hotel room door at 2 AM, and Waikiki knows it’s him even before he opens the door (because who else would bother him when he specifically asked to be left alone).

 

Acapulco doesn’t say hi, and neither does Waikiki. 

 

“I need to get rid of this,” explains Pulco and happily jingles the plastic bag. “If Nurse finds this much coke on me I’m sure she’ll have Everest snap me like a twig.” 

Waikiki at once understands why Acapulco is here, and honestly he’s a little  _ relieved  _ that it’s nothing more sinister than cocaine – Pulco can’t exactly throw the coke into the trash and wait for room service. 

“Oh, no problem,” says Waikiki plainly, “the bathrooms here, just flush it down.”

Acapulco looks at him with a disgust unparalleled to anything Waikiki has seen in his whole life – like a nun meeting a rockstar, a germaphobe seeing a leper, a vegan in a butchery, eyes wide in terror.

“Are you fucking my _ass_? Flush this much coke, this much _uncut_ coke, down the toilet?” 

“Oh certainly. Nurse is gonna check your room like a bloodhound, probably able to smell it from a mile away, but she trusts me a bit more.”

“Yeah, for some fuckin’ reason,” mutters Acapulco and kicks at the floor. 

 

Then he smiles. 

“Do you wanna snort it up?”

The question catches Waikiki so off guard that he breaks out into a bright nervous laugh as Acapulco gives a very soft smile. 

“C’mon, live a little! There’s enough coke in this bag to wake up a lesser crematory, I don’t think I could even do half of this,” says Acapulco, and at the last bit he looks up at Waikiki nearly pleadingly. He got puppy eyes on too – still works even with one eye nearly split in half, brows gently furrowed.

Waikiki would fall for it if he hadn’t known the bastard for nearly a decade. 

“Don’t see how that’s my problem,” he answers and crosses his arms, and immediately the sweet eyes are gone and Acapulco groans as loudly as he can. 

“Fuckin’ fine! I’ll flush  _ some _ of it out. Why do you hate fun? Don’t answer that. Can I at least snort a little bit of it in here before I throw this God’s gift down the toilet?”

 

— 

 

Waikiki definitely hates him. 

 

He’s been on the fence about it for the last 8 or so years, but yeah, definitely. 

It would be a lot easier if he exclusively hated Acapulco, instead of also at the same time liking him. He had liked him since he was posing undercover as a prison guard in Thailand, several years ago, and had met Acapulco. 

Acapulco, who was handcuffed and nearly beaten to a pulp, had somehow  _ immediately _ figured out Waikiki was undercover and winked and promised to keep his secret. 

Two weeks later they had caused a prison riot and ran off, snuck into first airplane they could find and ended up in South America. 

Besides the occasional scar and higher position on the FBI’s wanted list, nothing has really changed. 

 

“Do you need a straw or something? To snort, I mean?” asks Waikiki and Pulco cackles.

“God you’re such a narc – I didn’t get a titanium septum to use a  _ straw _ , now take your shirt off.”

 

“…why?”

 

“Because you love me? Right?” suggests Pulco meekly and Waikiki wishes he could be angrier with him, instead of waves of hatred followed by some sort of affection. 

 

“I don’t,” replies Waikiki and Acapulco pouts beneath his mustache. 

“Come  _ on _ , Kiki, let me do one quarter gram off your abs and I’ll never- I won’t bother you until tomorrow evening. How’s that?”

“It sounds like just another promise you’re not gonna keep,” says Waikiki and for some reason he abides, he unbuttons his vest and tries not to get flustered over taking his shirt off. 

He’s not self conscious over his few scars leaping across his muscles, perhaps even a little proud, but Acapulco looking at him with a  _ hunger _ sends back memories that aren’t necessarily unpleasant. 

 

“Any tattoos yet?” asks Pulco and jumps after him as Waikiki settles down on the bed (and bitterly thinks he would’ve preferred to test the Egyptian silk sheets alone and not with  _ him _ ).

“Nah, I’ve better things to do than give myself Joker tattoos,” says Waikiki and for a second Acapulco looks genuinely hurt over the comment. 

 

Next second he licks a stripe up Waikiki’s exposed chest, from the navel and up, and Waikiki’s breath hitches. 

“God you still look fucking amazing,” almost whines Acapulco and starts wrestling the little plastic bag, “why did I ever leave you?”

“Because you double crossed me and stole my car.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me. Now hold still babe.”

 

Waikiki’s knowledge of drugs are embarrassingly limited for someone as high up in the crime world as he is. He knows that once in Brazil he had to pin Acapulco down and force him to calm down because the bastard was having what seemed like five coke-induced breakdowns at once. He knows the girl in Pulp Fiction snorted heroin and needed an EpiPen. 

 

He also knows that the powder Acapulco is lovingly putting on his torso is sparkling silver cocaine, and that it’s expensive as  _ shit _ . 

“Where did you get that?”

“I’ve been saving it for  _ months _ , just for a neat little occasion just like this one.”

“That’s silver. Where did you get it from?”

Acapulco cocks his head side to side in silent stubbornness and it’s all the answer Waikiki needs.

“You fucked with Wolf King, didn’t you?” accuses Waikiki and Acapulco raises one shushing finger and instead of snorting he licks the silver row off Waikiki’s chest, and Kiki  _ really  _ tries to ignore the warmth in his lower abdomen. He’s done this before, had Acapulco leaned over him and either doing bodyshots or sucking his dick, the memories are all too near and Waikiki’s body is most unfortunately responding. 

 

“Okay so maybe I fucked– fucked with Wolf king, but I don’t owe him anything.”

“Come on buddy, we’ve both been in this business long enough to know that favors are never one and done.”

Another lick up Waikiki’s chest that cleans off the rest of the powder, and then Acapulco gives him an infuriatingly familiar mustached-shit-eating-I-know-more-than-you grin.

“Man, Kiki, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you sound almost worried about me.”

“I’m worried about  _ myself _ , they’re gonna come for  _ me _ if they wanna find you, ever since you ran your mouth saying,” Waikiki strains his voice into a higher pitch, “ _ oh yeah Kiki got a chip in me he knows where I am all the time _ –”

Acapulco pinches his nipple and Waikiki’s (quite honestly flawless) imitation turns into a scoff, only to be rudely interrupted by Pulco suddenly grabbing his thigh and brushing against his groin.

 

“Is that a semi-hardon for me?”

“You’re so hot until you open your goddamn mouth,” mutters Waikiki and grabs Acapulco by the collar of his shirt, drags him in and Acapulco is cackling as they  _ kiss _ . Waikiki refuses to think of it as a kiss, it’s more Acapulco laughing and forcing his tongue into his mouth as if he’s counting Waikiki’s teeth or looking for a cyanide pill.

“I knew you missed me,” says Acapulco with a grin shoves Waikiki down, and Acapulco’s silk shirt flutters open so that his whole chest is shown instead of just that incredibly hideous v-neck. “I missed you too, Kiki–”

They’re positioned now so that Waikiki has his shirt off with his back to the mattress, with Acapulco straddling him and rubbing the bulge of his pants against Waikiki’s groin. Waikiki’s bare chest tingles a little, both from the drying lines of spit and from the cocaine lightly numbing his skin, and Acapulco is trying to get both their dicks out – and most of all Waikiki wishes he could say this is the first time and that they weren’t in a  _ frighteningly  _ similar scenario five years ago in Palu, Indonesia.

 

Acapulco tugs down Waikiki’s trousers and underwear in one swoop, catches Waikiki’s dick and cruelly focuses all attention on his head so that Waikiki bucks beneath him. Pulco’s functioning eye is wide and staring down at Waikiki with huge interest while the scarred eye is still lazily half-shut, but just as enraptured. 

“You know, I really am sorry about stealing your car, leaving you for dead, I really am,” quickly says Acapulco and whips himself out, takes their dicks in one hand and rubs together. In a haze of anger, arousal and his mouth being oddly tingly from Acapulco kissing him so soon after licking up coke, the only response Waikiki musters is;

“Don’t apologize -  _ fuck  _ \- I  _ hate  _ you.”

“I hate you too – but admit it, you missed me, at least a little bit.”

 

Acapulco’s hands are slick with something, maybe sweat, and he so eagerly works them both off that Waikiki wonders if he will last particularly long. He truly hopes he lasts, that Waikiki won’t give Acapulco the satisfaction of seeing his ex blow his load way early.

“Fine, don’t admit it!” says Acapulco a little loudly and his free hand touches the sensitive skin right beneath Waikiki’s navel. “I’ll tell you what though, I missed you, missed your constant complaining and worrying and–”

Waikiki sits up straight and grabs Acapulco by the hair of his nape, and Pulco’s ranting instead becomes a drawn out moan and his eyes flutter. His pupils are blown so wide that his eyes look almost soft, if they weren’t glittering with malice and excitement.

 

“I forgot how much you talk,” says Waikiki and Acapulco grinds them together again and practically lunges at Waikiki to kiss him. This time he goes for the crook of Waikiki’s neck, nose by his jawline and breathing so intently it almost tickles, and then dragging his teeth across Waikiki’s throat. 

He’s not even particularly handsome, thinks Waikiki. Definitely not ugly, speckled in freckles and with a trail of hair on his belly, which was softer whenever Acapulco wasn’t actively on the run. Hell, after eight years even that  _ ugly mustache  _ had started to be charming. If he just didn’t  _ talk  _ so much–

 

“You missed me, babe, admit it–”

“You’re a rat,” breathes Waikiki instead.

“I’m a rat, I’m a dirty fuckin’ rat–,” agrees Pulco, and then he nips at Waikiki’s collarbone and grabs him by the fucking balls, and Waikiki suddenly comes with an actual scream. 

Acapulco pumps him through it as Waikiki comes in his hand and bucks beneath him, gasping sharply and Acapulco finishes just seconds after and it splatters over both their chests.

 

Acapulco falls back onto Waikiki’s legs with a heavy sigh, cock still out and Waikiki can’t even  _ fathom  _ how this happened, how him trying to go to bed at 2 AM turned into coked-up Acapulco in his lap with his cum on Waikiki’s bare chest. 

God, maybe he  _ did  _ miss him a little bit, thinks Waikiki, maybe he missed the dirty weasel of a man who sneaks into trouble and somehow never gets hurt, maybe he missed him after not seeing him for  _ two years _ –

 

“Just like fuckin’ Palu all over again,” says Acapulco, echoing Waikiki’s thoughts and Waikiki truly hates him, and even more does he hate that he laughs in earnest at the coincidence.

**Author's Note:**

> title modified from this in following the massive attack theme https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85E9Q5Wx210
> 
> hotel artemis could end up being the worst movie ever made it still has my balls in a grip


End file.
